Hallowed Horror
by Right What Is Wrong
Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry takes a moment to really think about the Deathly Hallows.


As he headed up to his four-poster bed in Gryffindor Tower after the final battle, already desperately anticipating Kreacher's sandwich, Harry chanced to look down at the Elder Wand.

Funny thing, really. Had obscene power, a storied history, and a mind of its own...

He froze in his steps, suddenly feeling like he was holding a viper. A mind of its own?

A horrible flashback to second year filled his mind. Ginny sobbing... Riddle laughing... Mr. Weasley lecturing... _Never trust something if you can't see where it keeps its brain_ , or something along those lines...

The Hallows had drawn countless Questers through history... he was no exception... and what else had that property? Dumbledore, forgetting all danger and shoving the ring upon his finger, when that wasn't even how one activated the Stone... Ginny, taking back the diary that had already brought her such horror... he, Hermione, and Ron, passing the locket back and forth, though they could have just stowed it, as he had stowed the Snitch that secretly held the Stone...

 _I have seen your heart, and it is mine..._

The only difference was that the range of attraction was much wider, but the Hallows were much older...

The Elder Wand claimed to be unbeatable, and yet it had so often passed by murder... Why? He remembered Riddle laughing over Ginny's prone body, so terribly small and cold and still... There came a point when a host had nothing more to give...

And, if one were not half so impatient as Riddle, one might calmly pass from host to host, gathering power from each and discarding them like a spoiled child did old toys, ever-increasing the power of the "unbeatable wand"...

The Stone... his parents and Sirius and Remus had been so real... yet so had the specters conjured up by the locket, save for their red eyes... Could Ron have been fooled, if it had been only him alone with the imitations of himself and Hermione? And yet you caught more flies with honey than with vinegar... The locket's specters had served only to torment and to horrify... but the Stone's phantoms... You could live with them for a while...

The Cloak, though... that was harmless... or was it? The false Moody had seen through it, and Dumbledore could tell he was under it... and yet once he knew that it was supposed to be impervious, it became so... but it had not been before...

His stomach turned. The Stone hadn't been destroyed by the Sword of Gryffindor, though... but the cut had not gone all the way through... And even he had known, instinctively, that the locket had to be opened before a fatal blow was possible...

Master to master... slave to slave... a line stretching back to the realm of myths and fables...

And what reason did he have to believe the tale was any more real than Riddle's depiction of himself as the virtuous, school-saving prefect, and Hagrid as the secret snake? Why ought he to think the Peverells had ever died? A grave meant nothing...

But perhaps they had - the Hallows had originally belonged to Death, after all... The Peverells were just their first victims...

And who had "Death" been, really? He could envision another Harry, Ron, and Hermione, yet infinitely more foolish and infinitely more greedy, defeating Voldemort, and the cowering Dark Lord offering them boons in exchange for his life... _To you, I give this diadem, which shall unceasingly whisper advice of great wisdom into the mind of the wearer,_ he would say to Hermione... _To you, I give this locket, which shall show you the truth of others' hearts,_ he would say to Ron... _Finally, to you, I give this diary, which shall provide you with a faithful, undying confidant, one who will remain by your side as long as you live,_ he would say to Harry... And might the Tale of the Three Friends end with daggers in each other's hearts, each convinced they were only acting after the others had betrayed them first? So easily... so easily...

He remembered a gleam of red in Ron's eyes...

And the Quest, as it had evolved over the centuries, included a promise of power to whoever united the Hallows... "Master of Death"... It only required one person to possess them all at once... Immortality? Necromancy? Invincibility? The promise was conveniently vague... Whatever the Quester wanted, yes... Whatever it took to have all three Hallows united by one host...

...

Hermione looked up as he reentered the Headmaster's office at a dead run. "Harry?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"Er, nothing much, it's just - D'you have any spare basilisk fangs?"


End file.
